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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25764463">Sand Boxes and Ice Lollies</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cafemochi/pseuds/cafemochi'>cafemochi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>You've Got Mail! [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Boyz (Korean Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>College AU, F/M, and well for other deobis too, basically i love these boys so much i wrote a fic for them, frustrating feelings god what even is this, highschool au somehow yeah, tatbilb au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:40:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,128</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25764463</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cafemochi/pseuds/cafemochi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s funny how something born out of the meeting of paper and pen can hold so much power. How a single piece of parchment can take such emotion and how words never uttered, only written, carry the ability to make or mend bonds. </p><p>I always thought of that as I wrote my letters. Carrying feelings I can never say out loud, written with the pen I bought from the vintage store downtown, encased in sloppily-made envelopes of coloured paper and washi tapes. These letters are my most prized possessions. And they sit deep in my closet, kept in an old chess kit. 12 letters. One for each boy who made me feel all warm and silly, no matter how ridiculously we met. Maybe even because we met.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Reader | Bae Jacob, Reader | Choi Chanhee, Reader | Heo Hyunjoon, Reader | Ji Changmin, Reader | Ju Haknyeon, Reader | Kim Sunwoo, Reader | Kim Younghoon, Reader | Lee Hyunjae, Reader | Lee Juyeon, Reader | Lee Sangyeon, Reader | Moon Kevin, Reader | Sohn Eric</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>You've Got Mail! [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869097</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sand Boxes and Ice Lollies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Haknyeon tried his best to avoid stepping on the lines of the sidewalk. The cherry ice lolly he’s holding forming little red drops on the concrete. “I don’t get why you’re wearing a jacket in the middle of summer.” He said, before biting the cold treat. “And I don’t get how your teeth don't hurt after biting that.” I skipped over to his side, “Since when did you care about what I wear?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Since you started wearing long-sleeved clothes when it’s almost 32 degrees out.” He smiled. Cheeks pulling up, sun shining on them. Small teeth peeking out from his lips, tinted red from the lolly he’s been eating. This is unfair. He’s not supposed to be this pretty. “Change out of it when you get home, and wipe your sweat! One of these days you’ll catch a cold and I’ll laugh at you and your Rudolph nose.” He said, before waving his right hand. Rolling my eyes, I shoved him lightly before crossing the road to my street. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Text me when you get home!” He shouted. I raised my hand in the air, bidding him goodbye, not looking back. Arriving home, I pulled off my hoodie, shouting a small ‘I’m home!’ before taking off my shoes and rushing to my room. Closing the door, I sent a quick text to Haknyeon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>just got home &lt;33</b>
</p><p>
  <span>sent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I took out the book I started on a few nights ago, something light. I can’t bear the extra thoughts right now with that literature presentation coming up. Grabbing the receipt I have used as a bookmark, I settled down on my bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My mind drifted away to the thoughts of sharing an apartment with the person I love, coffee while sitting on a tattered couch, cozied up to each other like a pair of bunnies trying to warm themselves, in front of a laptop playing god knows what. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Three knocks pulled me out of my state and then “Little lady, you’ve got mail!” Dad popped from the doorway. Mail? Last time I checked I don’t own a magazine subscription. Dad placed the mail on my desk and I got up from my spot, I was about to ask him who’s it from but he already made his way out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What greeted me on my desk, though, is worse than a monthly subscription to boys flexing their muscles on glossy paper. “Oh, no.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, this can’t be happening. Just no. I picked up the pale green envelope from my desk. Written right in the middle, in what I could recognize, is my hand-writing from 9th grade. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jacob Bae. Table No. 12. Yonsei University Cafeteria. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I rushed to my closet, looking for a piece of wood that’s supposed to be the home to this envelope. It’s not there. I made my way downstairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Getting back a letter, and looking for the box means that the letters have been sent out and if they’ve been sent out then the closest person to receive a letter would be, “No, oh no. Just no.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>_______________________________________</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ju Haknyeon</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>#21, Eulji-ro, Jung-gu</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Seoul, Republic of Korea</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My Haknyeon,</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know how I find kinder boy jumpers and chubby arms attractive, all I know is you looked adorable when you gave me the cherry ice lolly on the day we met in the playground. I don’t even like cherries, but I learned to eat them when I noticed that you keep buying them from the cart. You were the epitome of childhood innocence and carefree toothy smiles. I remember the night when our family had yours over and you fell asleep in the tent we set up in the playroom, your tummy had this adorable little bump and you tossed every now and then. Neither of our families had the heart to wake you up and that was how we started having sleepovers. One time, we made this pillow fort in my room and you brought your star projector from your house.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll buy you a star.” you told me with the little lisp you had because you lost one of your middle teeth a few days before. I wanted to tell you that you can’t buy stars and if you can they would cost a lot of money, but you looked so pleased with what you said so I kept my thoughts to myself.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Days after our sleepover, you came over to my desk and placed down a gold star, big enough for my little hands to hold. “Mom told me that stars cost a lot so I’ll give you this one. When I get rich, I’ll buy you all the stars you want!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My sweet little Haknyeon if only you knew that the only star I wanted was standing right in front of me,only an arms length away yet brighter than the stars of the skies above.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>_______________________________________</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Kindergarten</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chubby fingers worked their way on the warm sand of the playbox, it was late afternoon, the sky turning into this purple-orange palette and the sun was slowly descending. Such moments were normal, as the neighborhood school dismissed its children a few hours after office, when moms and dads, or guardians, can go pick up their kids.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I only had Dad to pick me up, and he works shifts at the hospital so I never really had the thought of waiting for him. Sometimes, it would be my sister who would be waiting for me, or maybe even Mrs. Kim who lives across us. When times allow it, Dad will be waiting for me by the swings, waving a paper bag of donuts from the cafe near the school the big kids go to, walking to carry me in his arms saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘I also got you the banana milk from the store, sweetheart. Did you miss me?’</span>
  </em>
  <span> and I won’t say anything but nuzzle my face deeper into his neck, sniffing the faint scent of alcohol and hospital halls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who’s that?” across the drawing I made in the sand stood feet covered in rubber. Worn-out blue overalls and a yellow shirt, a red ice lolly held in the boy’s right hand, his left occupied with a little pig figurine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s my dad.” I offered the stick I was holding, “Do you want to draw something too?” He took the stick from me and he drew pigs and a car and a little rectangle with short lines, he told me it was a horse, “My family owns a pig farm and my dad taught me how to ride a horse! I’ll tell him to teach you and we can play dragons and horses.” I don’t know how, but he offered me his ice lolly and by the time he gave it to me it was close to being a puddle of red sugar syrup on the ground, he gave me the popsicle stick that was with it instead, but somehow forgot to tell me his name. All I know is that the little boy, of pure joy and cheeky grins made me want to tell Mrs. Kim to come pick me up later than she usually does. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We met again the next day. The little boy who introduced himself as Ju Haknyeon came back to the playground, I gave him his toy car, which he forgot to grab yesterday before running home, but he told me I can keep it, “My mom’s going to transfer me to late classes tomorrow! She told me she’s starting to get early shifts at work and she can’t leave me alone in the house. I told her I’m a big boy and I don’t need grown-ups to take care of me.” He went out about how he was able to pour juice for himself and bring his dishes up the counter to be washed, going on and on about how he didn’t get why grown-ups always do things without asking what us children think of. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m in late classes. Dad wakes up very early to go to the hospital and usually Mrs. Kim picks me up when he can’t.” I placed a flag on the castle we were making, Haknyeon was quiet for a while before sniffing and going, “Then, let’s play tomorrow at school, too! I’ll bring extra snacks for you. What snacks do you like? I like pop tarts, the cherry ones. I think the pink looks pretty, but I like the ci-ciman-cinnamon ones, too.” I giggled at how he struggled to say cinnamon, and he pouted and stood up to stomp his feet in childish rage. He tackled me to the sand and we ended up chasing each other around the playground.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next day, Haknyeon showed up at kindergarten and immediately made himself known. He offered to help give crayons and paper, played with everyone during circle time (where we sit in a circle and play games), and even sang in front of the class. By snack time, he had everybody wrapped around his little pinky, going around and taking a look at the snacks that we had. I placed my packed carrots on the table and Haknyeon sat beside me. “I brought you the pop tarts. You didn’t tell me what flavour you want so I brought you the cherry ones.” I don’t eat pop tarts, nor did I like cherries, but I know I won’t forgive myself if I said that to him, so I thanked him and we shared my carrots while he told me that he made the pop tarts himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When nap time came, he asked the teacher to put his mat next to mine and we lay down on the rubber-padded floor, snuggled in our mats. There was the faint sound of music boxes and soft piano in the background, and although I was tired from the events of the afternoon, I spent almost all of nap time staring at the little boy beside me. Tiny snores came out from him and every so often he'd scrunch up his nose and scratch his tummy before gripping the blankets and turning to a new position. When I finally decided that staring at the boy across me will not help my bedtime, I closed my eyes and pulled the blanket over me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I don't know but I remember dreaming about a horse with wings flying through our homeroom window, and Haknyeon was sitting on its back. He held his hand and I took it and we sailed above the gym and across the faculty parking lot. The ride ended at the playground where Hak and I met. And when the horse bent down to help us get off, I woke up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As I sat up on my mat, I looked down on the boy I dreamt about, and wished that the horse would come to take me and Haknyeon away to a new kindergarten where nap time is centuries long.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>_______________________________________</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At a young age I figured out that people won't always be there to be there for me and the time will come when I have to stand up for myself. But that was proven to be extremely difficult since I kept my thoughts to myself and left what people say to haunt me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When we started first grade, a few girls in nice socks and curled ribbons told me that Dad kept staying at the hospital late cause he didn't want a child like me. I tried to convince myself that it wasn't true, but deep down there was this part of me that decided to believe it. And you, Ju Haknyeon, decided to stomp your feet and look at the little girls straight in the eye and shouted, "That's not true! Her dad loves her very much! He even told us that he'll bring us to the water park next week!".</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Our teacher pulled you out during snack time and told you off, saying that you should never raise your voice to a woman and you said "Why are they raising their voice on my friend? Isn't she a woman?" And it was beyond confusing for me. How you had the guts to tell our teacher something that’s well beyond our first-grader minds, actually, I didn’t even know where that came from, or how you walked out back to where my desk was, and began taking out your pop tarts as if you weren't being scolded a few minutes ago. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How you called me your friend. Don't take me wrong. It took me a while to process what you said. You didn't call me your playmate or someone you sit next to during lunch, you called me your friend. The word came out of your mouth as if I've been with you since diapers and our parents drank tea together during the end of the week.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>While we sat in the little sandbox, waiting for our respective guardians, you asked me if I was fine with everything they were saying. I was not. I was scared. I was scared that one day Mrs. Kim won't be there to pick me up anymore or Dad won't be the first face I see during mornings or you won't come to my desk during lunch and you'll leave me to play alone in the sandbox when classes are over. But instead of saying anything, I stayed silent and fumbled with the sand. "If you're not fine with it then why aren't you saying anything? You shouldn't let anyone step on you like that. You're a cool person and I think your Dad is the best dad in the world. But don't tell my dad that I said that." </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>_______________________________________</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So, I heard you made a friend." Dad hummed as he gave me a few tissues to help me with the donut that I held in my right hand. Maybe he heard it from Mrs. Kim or maybe our teacher decided to tell him during the parent-teacher conference they had last week. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I did. He lets me borrow his crayons and he plays with me until someone picks me up." I offered him to take a bite of the donut. He shook his head and went, "Mr. Ju from the other street told me that a sweet little girl has been very kind to his child and that maybe if we have the time tonight, we can go over and have dinner with them." Wait a minute, Dad knows Haknyeon's parents. He knows and he never told me anything. For a while, I was a bit mad that he hid the fact that a boy my age lived a street away from me and that me and Haknyeon really could've been friends since diapers. But then I thought about it and accepted the thought that even if I knew that a possible playmate lived a street away, I'd be too shy and caught up in my small world to talk to them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That night, I found myself dressed in my best clothes and even asked my sister to fix my hair. Their home was beautiful. I remember Haknyeon telling me that his mom enjoyed gardening very much and more often than not, their house is filled with weird looking plants. (</span>
  <em>
    <span>"There's a small plant that I think is very weird but mom likes it very much so I leave it alone." he told me over snacks one time.)</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mr. and Mrs. Ju are the kindest people I've ever met. I heard Mr. Ju laugh at a joke that my dad told him and I swear I heard Haknyeon somewhere in that big voice of his. Mrs. Ju gave my hair a brush, cooing at how soft it was and how pretty the blue ribbon went with my locks. She, then, called Haknyeon to come go down and greet their visitors and I kept wondering if he knew that we were going to stay for dinner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Haknyeon went down the stairs, dressed in a neat button-up that had short sleeves, his hair combed a bit to the left and he tried to walk in his dress shoes. I guess he knew we were coming since he tried to walk down the stairs with this prince like aura, but gave up in the end and ran to me, messing up his combed hair ever so slightly. "Well, someone's excited." Mrs. Ju muttered under her breath. I tried my best not to giggle and in the end, a small bit of air left me. "It was Haknyeon's idea to call you over. Me and wifey got curious when he suddenly came home saying that late classes were the best, when just a few days ago he was grumpy at the thought that he's transferring classes." Mr. Ju placed his arm over my dad's shoulder, leading him to the dining room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The little ball of light finally came toward me, "You look pretty." He said, bashfully. "Thank you. I think you look good, as well." I twiddled my thumbs behind me. No one ever told me that I looked pretty before. Well, except Dad, Mrs. Kim, and a few other people. And no one has ever told me that while looking at me like I was the prettiest girl in the room and made me want to  believe it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How this boy and his silly shoes managed to make me feel like I'm some sort of ethereal being that's been walking since the beginning of time within the span of 2 minutes just made me want to stay at his house more than ever, to spend dinner hiding our peas at the bottom of our plates, and to dance in your hallways, me in my best dress, and you in your button up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And years passed, I grew out of the dress I wore that dinner and you stopped wearing your faded overalls and one time, when we're going back to our street, a rain caught us and we stayed in a convenience store for awhile. “Why is it that you always forget things when we need them the most?” Haknyeon cringed at his drenched polo stuck at his back, dropping your school bag on one of the tables. I bought a few reusable towels and brought them over. “Here. Dry yourself as much as you can, okay? I don’t want you getting sick.” He took the towel from me and grinned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you worried about me?” He asked. “No? Come on, the last time you were sick you didn’t go to school for three days straight and left me to stay over at debate club with no one to talk to. So shut up, dry your hair and stop leaving me at social functions. You know I can’t communicate with people.” I scoffed while rubbing the towel on my head. That wasn’t what I wanted to say, though. But Haknyeon was quiet for a while and I began regretting what I said and I turned to face him and instead of a face scrunched up with anger, what greeted me was a towel thrown to my head. I was about to throw a fit when a sudden warmth suddenly began rubbing my hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I peeked out of the towel, carefully, as if what I’ll see will give me nightmares that will haunt me for the years to come. And it did haunt me. Just not in the way I expected it to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>_______________________________________</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There you were, with the softest look in your eyes, the same look you have when you’re handling puppies, no. Even softer than that. And with a voice, spoken like you’re talking to a baby, you said, “I’m sorry. That must’ve been really uncomfy for you, huh? I’ll take better care of myself this time, so you won’t be alone. But you know, the people in the debate club aren’t that bad. I brought you there so they can take care of you while I’m out.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I had no words. My mind went blank as I tried to embed the scene before me. Drenched from the rain, bits of your polo stuck to your skin, your vest looked heavy from the amount of rain water it took in, your hair looked darker than the choco brown it was when dry, your lips, which were blue from running through the rain, slowly gained its pinkness, it was faint but it was there. And I will never, ever, forget your eyes. The way you looked at me as if we weren’t stuck in a convenience store, cold from the rain that poured down that day. Hooded eyes looked at me, almost sleepy-like, but I have never felt more alive. You were warm. Like a glass of milk and honey before bed. And I felt, yours. And my heart-clenched, because I realized I love you. How I came to that realization when you were drying my hair near the alcohol aisle still blows my mind until now. And that’s all that mattered back then. Maybe I was too young to understand the uneven beats of my heart, or what felt like it, but I know I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But you should take care of yourself, too. You worry me, you take care of everyone else but never yourself. You get quiet suddenly and then the next, you’re laughing about squirrels. I’m here for whatever’s in your head, you know? Release those thoughts sometimes, no matter what they’re about. Are you forgetting the praise you get for your rebuttals during our mock debates? You’re the most amazing when you speak your mind. And I think you shine the brightest when you speak your arguments-” And then you stopped. Like a deer caught in the headlights. What’s wrong? What went wrong? Did I do something wrong, I didn’t even do anything. Then you laughed and said, “Why are you looking at me like that?” I remember shouting “Ju Haknyeon!” across the store and throwing the towel on my head towards your face. Oh well, maybe our confessions will come another time. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Our confessions never came. Which is why this letter came to be. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But Haknyeon, what you said that day I took into heart and started saying my opinions. I started volunteering for debate contests, even won speaker of the year at the annual debate cup, and you were there cheering from your own pedestal. You showed me that there is always a way out of a cave, no matter how long and dark that cave is. You showed me love at a time when I never really thought that I needed it. I love you, Ju Haknyeon. I really do. I love the way your cheeks catch light when you smile, and how your eyes carry the galaxies within them, and how you always speak for those who can't. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You will always be my beacon of hope, my light at the end of the tunnel. Thank you for being here for me, with me, and for helping me be the person I am right now. I will never have a picture of myself stapled across the hallways, labeled as Yonsei Middle School’s best debater. Or be working on the school newspaper if you have not told me that my essay about the difference of generic and branded medicine were years beyond my age and looked like it was written by a medical expert. (I know it wasn’t but yeah I took you for it) And most certainly, I wouldn't be wearing hoodies to school if they weren't yours.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe if time and destiny allow it, we'll be together in a small house and I'll be working on an article while you're in the kitchen rummaging our fridge for ingredients of a recipe you found online. When we're done with dinner, we'll sit back on our couch and nap. The same way we did back in kindergarten.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wish all the best things for you, my light. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yours,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>_______♡</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>_______________________________________</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Present Time</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi Dad, I’ll be back before dinner, I promise I just have to settle this real quick. Okay? Okay!” I grabbed my hoodie (it was Haknyeon’s) off the stand near the doorway and scrambled to get my shoes on and went out the house. Before going a few steps back to tell Dad, “Are those short ribs? They smell great, Dad!” Ran to Haknyeon’s house a street away, and when I reached their neighborhood, I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself before heading to the battle straight on. Rang the doorbell, waited for a while, and when it opened,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good evening, Mrs. Ju, did you receive your mail today?” Hak’s mom was about to respond when the aforementioned man suddenly came down the stairs and looked my way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, we got our mail.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>One for Lee Sangyeon, our student body president. And for Bae Jacob, the transferee from Canada. There’s Kim Younghoon, a part-timer at the Daydream Cafe, where I like to spend my afternoons at. Lee Jaehyun, my first ‘kiss’ during the first ‘grown-up’ sleepover we had when I was in 7th Grade. Lee Juyeon, a senior I was with during an internship at the town newspaper office. </p><p>Moon Kevin, the Glee Club pianist and the editor-in-chief of our school’s yearbook. Choi Chanhee, my next door neighbour who moved in 3 years after we did. Ji Changmin, who’s the team leader of the school’s performance team. Ju Haknyeon, my childhood friend who lives a street away from us. Heo Hyunjoon from the vintage store I frequently shop in. Kim Sunwoo, the school’s golden soccer boy. And Sohn Eric, my junior who went to Model UN with me.</p><p>Of course, it really was just for the sake of fulfilling my imagination. Or so I thought.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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